Postcards to America Read Online Free Page B

field day. I can see the headlines now; ‘MINISTERS’ SON FAILS TO KEEP HIS PANTS ON.’ I will be a laughing stock in parliament. He could envision some of the questions: ‘Is the minister’s salary adequate to clothe his family?’ or, ‘Do we need more nudist facilities in this country?’ or, ‘Does the minister care a fig leaf for his constituents?’ Of course, the Speaker of the House would rule the questions out of order but the damage would be done to his image. And in politics image was everything.
    Patrick Snr. sat down and rubbed his eyes.
    ‘I didn’t run around with my clothes off this time,’ answered Patrick. ‘You’re talking about an incident that happened at my previous school.’
    ‘This time, the last time, what does it matter? How does enticing underage females to take their clothes off sound to you?’
    ‘For the last time I didn’t do it.’
    ‘You were caught in the act. Another five minutes and you would have been climbing the rope.’
    Patrick did not know what to say. He wanted to go to university, get a degree and be independent.
    ‘Patrick, I want you to take over my seat when I retire. I want you to continue the tradition and pass it on to your children in turn. It can be a rewarding life.’
    Also corrupt, vicious, backbiting and morally bankrupt, Patrick. Thought, rubbing an insect bite on his leg. He kept his thoughts to himself.
    Patrick Snr. continued, ‘I will try some other schools and see if I can get you admitted. Some school somewhere must need funding urgently. And this time keep your pants on.’
    Patrick unselfconsciously checked his pants belt.
    Eventually his father found a school and the family moved nearer the municipality. Time passed and Patrick progressed to university. Trouble still hovered around Patrick but nothing serious happened – except for the time a person or persons unknown stuffed his team shirt down a drain and flooded a complete floor - to mar his studies.
    Both of Patrick’s parents attended his graduation. Patrick could see that they were proud as punch and he felt glad for them. Did he ever think he would get this far? Of course, he owed a debt to his parents and especially his father who pulled strings and bribed headmasters when needed. Still, all the exams were passed without cheating. “All my own work,” as the saying went. Now he would concentrate on getting a job and gaining independence.
    It’s proving harder than I thought, Patrick acknowledged after six weeks of interviews and posting CVs to potential employers. Most of the prospects on offer were lowly paid, mind bogglingly repetitive or needing two years’ experience.
    After much searching, he managed to secure an interview with an insurance company. After a battery of tests, he faced three interviewers across a table. “Pin-stripe” sat on his left, “Neat-tie” sat on his right and “Dyed Hair” sat in the middle.
    ‘You know that this is a very responsible position, ‘said “Pin-stripe”, trying to look serious and playing with his pen, ‘You would be the face of the company that the customer sees.’
    ‘I understand that,’ Patrick replied, looking for the appropriate response.
    ‘Neat dress is essential at all times… at all times,’ repeated “Dyed Hair” looking at Patrick’s year old suit and slightly scuffed brown shoes.
    ‘This is not my best,’ Patrick lied.
    ‘Your father is the minister?’ “Neat Tie” asked.
    ‘That is so.’
    ‘Your responses are not very forthcoming, Patrick. We expect our insurance team to be expansive.’
    ‘I’ll try to do better, Patrick promised,’ shifting slightly in his chair. He rubbed the toe of his left shoe with the sole of his right brown loafer. He wished he could remove his tie and undo the top button on a shirt grown too small. Trouble approached; he could smell it. He remembered when trouble sneaked up on him in the gym all those years ago.
    All three interviewers wrote on their pads.
    ‘What’s